


Medusozoa

by abeillle



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Canon Divergence, Gen, Lunar Interlude IV, Spoilers for Episode 60
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-18
Updated: 2017-04-18
Packaged: 2018-10-20 17:14:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10667163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abeillle/pseuds/abeillle
Summary: “What the hell.” Johann looks flabbergasted. “I’ve never -- what the everliving fuck.”“Sir, I am so, so sorry,” says Angus, and Mage Hands him into the side of the tank.





	Medusozoa

Walking through the hallways of the Bureau is different with a secret. Angus watches his co-workers, their flurry of movement; chatting over coffee, fussing with paperwork. He can see little clusters of employees in gym clothes lugging weapons and armour to the sparring rooms. He observes this and feels odd, as though all the world should have panicked and turned on its head, but life continues around him even as he feels stuck in that fateful moment.

Nothing has changed, except for Angus himself. It’s a strange thought.

He’s snapped out of his reverie by the sight of Avi. His back is facing Angus, but assuming by the hand placed over one ear he’s talking into a stone of farspeech.

“Madam,” Angus hears him say. “Please reconsider, the entire weekend--”

On the other end Angus can recognize the director's voice. With a pang, he remembers the secret again. He listens with bated breath. He’s afraid to hear his name in the conversation, but he can’t make out what she’s saying. When she’s finished speaking Avi  tells her, “Yes, I’ll do that. Of course.”

There’s a _click_ as Avi deactivates the stone. It’s a model similar to his own, Angus remembers, inset into a metallic plate in the center of a leather armband, like a watch. Avi makes the stone look utilitarian and professional. On Angus it’s just comically oversized.

“Hey, Angus,” says Avi, in a much lighter tone, turning to face him. “What are you up to?”

“I’m off to have my dinner,” says Angus, although he hadn’t decided on this until the words left his mouth. “It’s the second Tuesday of the month -- spaghetti and meatballs, sir, which is my favourite. My grandfather used to make it all the time, when, well. Back then.”

Avi nods, as if to commend Angus’ taste. “Don’t get up to any trouble without me.”

“Wait, sir, aren’t you going? I know you have your break around this time.” Maybe Avi is trying to get rid of him, as Merle tends to do.

“Very observant, kiddo,” says Avi, “but I’m on overtime.”

Angus’ heart drops.

“Can you do me a favour and tell Mags to bring me dessert?” Avi continues, unaware. “Out of earshot of Taako, of course. I’m not in the mood to get food poisoning.”

“Taako would _never_ ,” insists Angus. His voice cracks midway. Overtime.

Avi laughs, mistaking the source of his panic. “Aw, man, you place way too much faith in that guy. You’re his favourite, though, I get that. And that T.V. show predates you. Anyway.” He waves at Angus and heads off. “See you around.”

“Goodbye, sir,” squeaks Angus, and watches Avi round a corner and disappear. He makes his way to the dining hall. This exchange has left him far too uneasy. Avi works security, so logically speaking, there must be an issue if he’s working extra hours. A security issue.

Angus wills himself not to think of the security issue in his own dormitory.

He tries to keep his breath steady. What’s the pattern? Inhale for three, exhale for seven? No, that’s for dwarves. He can’t remember the right exercises. This isn’t helping.

When Angus gets to the dining hall there is already a crowd at his usual table. He carries his tray on shaking hands and sets it down next to Johann’s. There’s a few chirps of _Hello, Angus_ , and _Hey, bud_ as he sits down.

“Good evening, everyone,” he says. He takes a small sip of water and stays, uncharacteristically as he knows, completely silent. Noelle gives him a concerned look. A light blinks in her shoulder.

“You sure you’re all right?” she asks. Angus is distracted by her drink, which appears to be gasoline with a straw and a paper umbrella. “Something got you down?”

“It’s nothing, ma’am,” croaks Angus. “Perhaps I’m a little under the weather.”

Killian gestures to his plate. “Eat some of this, it’s really good. Might lift your spirits.”

“Mhm,” agrees Carey, mouth full. She winks at Angus, turns to Merle, and says, “Hey, Merle. The food’s really good, right?”

“Oh yeah, definitely.” says Merle. “I can taste the. Whatdyacallit, undertones. Very Fantasy Italian. Taako’s always going on about that kind of thing, you know, you pick up a little culinary knowledge here and there.”

Carey slowly begins to slide Merle’s dessert towards Angus.

Merle, oblivious, heaves a little sigh. “It would really pair well with wine, but. That’s how it is.”

“Life’s tough,” says Killian, who is barely containing laughter. “Maybe you’ll get some wine on your weekend getaway, so it can’t be that bad.”

“True, true,” says Merle.

Angus connects the dots. “Weekend getaway?”

Merle grunts, “Keep your nose out of it,” but relents a moment later and says, “It’s a spa thing. I’m bringing Lucretia as my plus one, Pan knows she needs it. She’s strung tighter than Johann’s lute.”

Johann looks up from his plate and says, “Hey.”

“That’s very nice, sir,” says Angus. “I hope you enjoy your visit.” Angus breathes a small sigh of relief. His secret is safe.

Killian adds, “Great time for her to leave us.”

Angus privately disagrees. Despite everything, he trusts the director. He is certain she wouldn’t have gone unless she knew it was safe.

“Don’t worry,” says Magnus, mouth full. “I’ll protect you.”

Merle, who is misfortunate enough to be sitting across from Magnus, gets sprayed with spaghetti particulate. Angus laughs, despite himself.

“You can certainly protect me from a clean shirt,” grumbles Merle.

Magnus winks. “And a whole lot more!”

Angus doesn’t want to be present when Magnus inevitably starts flexing, so he stands and gives him both slices of cake. “Avi wanted you to save dessert for him, sir, and I have to be off now, so goodbye to everyone and have a nice evening,” he says, all in a rush.

Noelle asks, “Aren’t you going to finish your food?”

“I’ll take it,” says Magnus, already reaching over. “See ya, Ango.”

Angus dashes off in a chorus of goodbyes. He’s quick to make his escape, but after a few loops of the main hallway, he begins to get antsy. There’s nothing worse than moving without a purpose.

He stops near a window overlooking a storage bay. Quite frankly it’s not a picturesque view. Instead Angus considers his reflection in the curved glass; his dishevelled shirt, his messy hair.

He likes to keep himself neat and professionally dressed. Mostly this is a personal preference, although he often worries about how the other employees perceive him. If he got sloppy they’d see nothing but skinned knees and braces; they’d tousle his hair and tell him to run along and play. Keeping it business casual seems a necessary preventive measure. After meals he usually re-tucks his shirt and straightens his tie, polishes his glasses and combs his hair in what he hopes passes for a natural look but is in fact a tactical arrangement to hide zits. He does this in his dormitory, which despite its double bunks is entirely his.

The thought of returning to his dormitory makes his stomach lurch. He doesn’t want to be near _it_. He likes solving puzzles, but in this case he feels less like the detective and more like the victim. He’s in entirely over his head.

Angus supposes there’s nothing to do but to keep moving forwards. There’s a bathroom on the fifth floor that’s usually quite empty. He makes his way over with vague intentions to tidy up.

Today, though, there’s a familiar figure arranged at one of the sinks. Angus notices him rummaging through a pile of beauty products, and feels his spirits lift instantly.

“Hi, poppet,” says Taako. He’s concentrating intently on a eyeliner pencil, which floats, unassisted, inches from his face. It hovers across one eyelid in a slow semicircle.  “Magnus flooded your bathroom, too?”

Angus laughs. “Oh, no, sir. I’m here to, uh, wash my hands. You can’t discount good hygiene.”

Taako hums. His hands, resting on the edge of the counter, show off ten perfectly painted nails. For once, his skirt and blouse are fresh and unwrinkled. He’s forgone his usual tangle of amulets for a single pendant, a ruby heart, that hangs over the sink as he leans towards the mirror.

Angus washes his hands for the recommended sixty seconds, keeping quiet as to allow Taako to concentrate. He shuts off the tap and dries his hands in the fantasy dyson airblade. It’s only when he hears the pencil clatter against ceramic that he turns and says, “Sir?”

Taako’s frowning at the sink, where the fallen pencil has rolled against residual droplets of water and dyed them black. He taps against the side of his umbrella. “Nothing to worry about, I’ve just been having some, uh, technical difficulties up in here.”

“That’s no good, sir,” says Angus, at which Taako sniffs pointedly.

“Take a hint, Angie, that was an understatement. This is a tragedy.”

Angus remembers the incident from a few weeks back, the burning letters on the wall. The first time he had seen Taako look genuinely afraid. “Of course,” he amends, “You’re right. We can’t have our best reclaimer incapacitated! I can, um, lend you my wand, sir. If it’s necessary.”

“Hm?” says Taako, a bit distantly. “Oh, yes, that. Thanks, but no thanks, Ang. You keep that bad boy.” He picks up the pencil and resumes the job by hand, although he seems disappointed with the result. Angus can’t for the life of him figure out why, because as always Taako looks impeccable.

“Why are you getting all fancied up, sir?” asks Angus, despite himself. Getting the words out of his mouth feels like prodding at a bruise. He can tell that Taako has somebody to impress. Maybe a date. He keeps his eyes trained on the sink, where the makeup-y water has begun its descent into the drain.

One of Taako’s ears flicks backwards, as if swatting a fly. A telltale sign of irritation, according to an Elvish psychology manual from the bureau library.

“I’m going to Nunya,” says Taako. He rubs at the eyeliner, and turns to him with a weary sort of grin. “Nunya business! Capiche?”

Angus laughs. “Good one, sir. You’ve only used it on me twelve times.” Then he notices something strange.

There’s an odd motion to the drops of blackened water in the sink. They've begun to crawl back up the sides, opposing gravity as if being pushed. Whatever magic is sustaining them must be faint, but it feels powerful nonetheless.

Taako doesn’t notice. Taako is rubbing at his face. He raises a hand, almost gingerly, to touch the smudged makeup.

“Golly, sir,” says Angus, without thinking. “It looks just like a black eye.”

Taako turns to respond but seems to have trouble forming words. His expression sours. “I can’t,” he finally says, in a very high, distressed voice. “I don’t understand--”

The droplets, still propelled by some invisible force, begin to form letters.

“Taako. Sir.” Angus motions to the sink. He can read, clear as day, the letters _I - P - R._

The droplets begin to form a fourth letter, but something odd happens as it starts to take shape. The water blurs over. He and Taako both watch it drip, no longer magical, and disappear down the drain.

Taako turns to face Angus. He blinks a few times, then his expression clears. As if suddenly aware of his hand, he removes it from his face.

“Welp. Nothing a little transmutation can’t fix,” he says, in a strange but steady voice. This time when he taps his umbrastaff the eye makeup fixes itself. “Come on, Ango Mango. Let’s blow this popsicle stand.”

Taako knocks the cosmetics into a Fantasy Costco bag with a quick Mage Hand. The bag vanishes with a _snap_. “Knocked it right into the ethereal plane,” he says, looking pleased with himself. “Using Blink. Cool, huh?”

“The coolest,” Angus agrees, trailing out after Taako. “Will you teach me?”

“Maybe later. Taako’s gotta get ready for his hot date.”

“Oh,” says Angus. “So that’s why you’re dressed all nice.”

“Don’t be a smartass,” chides Taako. They arrive in front of the elevator. Angus pushes the button.

“Listen, sir,” he begins. “I have to um, ask you something.”

Taako gives him a look. “Well, shoot. Do your worst.”

“I know you’re more of an expert in transmutation, but, um. Do you know anything about -- dreams? Like, divination, and stuff?”

“Oh, yeah, sure. Totally. I dabbled in that stuff in college.”

The elevator doors open. “I was thinking,” Angus says as they enter, “and I’m well, fairly positive, I’ve been having really weird dreams. I’ve been seeing the past. Childhood memories. Not mine. Other people’s.”

Taako doesn’t respond for a while. “Maybe that’s your calling, Angus,” he finally says. “Life’s giving you a sign. A big fuckin’ sign that says, ‘Get on that Marty McFly shit, stat.’”

“Who’s that?”

Taako considers. “You know what? I don’t have a goddamned clue.”

“Well,” says Angus, “to be frank, sir, I think it’s not me. It’s somebody else, telling me, trying to get something across.”

“What is it? Angus, that doesn’t sound too great. What kind of dreams are you even having?”

He wants to say it so bad. Taako has a way of making any predicament sound manageable, but he’s not here to dump his problems onto somebody else.

“I’m sorry, sir. That’s between me, and well. Me.”

“Angus?” There’s a different quality to Taako’s voice.

“Yes?”

Taako takes a deep breath. “ _Listen._ I want you to know that. Um. This shit ain’t always easy. Like magic and shit, you wanna keep cool but sometimes you just have to rush in, you know? It’s not an easy call. You really have to look inside yourself, face your truth and all that. I mean, it’s okay that you didn’t tell me. I, uh, think you can make the right choice. You can--” Taako meets his eyes. “You can do it.”

“Thank you sir,” says Angus. “It means a lot.”

“Great,” says Taako. “I’ve done my emotional bit, now I need to make my dramatic exit. What’s taking this elevator so fucking long?”

Angus grins. “We, uh. Never pressed a button.”

“Great,” snaps Taako, again, and punches the lowest button. “What floor?”

Angus considers. “Initiation,” he decides. Taako presses the button.

“Paying Johann a visit?”

“Something like that,” he says. “Listen, sir.” Angus takes a deep breath. “Do you… do you remember what you first introduced yourself as, when we met on the train? Your fake name?”

Taako frowns. “What fake name?” He looks confused. “I didn’t… I mean, I never… huh.”

His face takes on a familiar, distressing quality. The same expression as when he’d watched the letters form in the sink.

“Oh,” says Angus very quickly, “no worries, sir. I’ve got the wrong person, probably. I’ve been on, uh, lots of trains!”

Taako gives him an odd look. The doors slide open. “Enjoy your evening,” Angus says.

“Likewise, bucko.”

He steps out. There’s nobody else in the hall. He can hear Johann’s lute from within the doors of the Voidfish’s chamber, a slow, sad melody. He steels himself and walks in.

The change is immediate. The Voidfish, which until then had been silent, lets out a long, high note. It’s shrill; frantic, almost. Johann drops his instrument.

He looks Angus over. “It’s silent all day when I’m playing. Then you walk in and it just, wow.” He frowns. "And Magnus."

“Don’t take it personally, sir,” says Angus, although his nerves are wracked. The Voidfish makes the same agitated noise.

Angus walks to the tank, heart racing. He presses his forehead to the glass. He thinks, _Did I do the right thing?_

There’s no response. The Voidfish doesn’t seem capable of getting across its point, and emits another keen.

“Hey, don’t worry, buddy,” says Angus, “I’m right here,” and then the Voidfish reaches a tentacle out of its tank and reels him in.

Angus panics. He’s underwater. The tentacle has a stranglehold around his waist. He kicks at its sides and tries in vain to dislodge it. He keeps getting twisted and submerged and he doesn’t know which way is up, he can’t breathe --

He sees Magnus. He’s young and impossibly small, covered in scrapes and bruises. Standing a dozen feet away is a mangy dog. Magnus fishes a scrap of food out of his pocket and holds it out. He tries so hard to be still. The dog approaches, and hesitantly grabs the food. Magnus grins as he watches it run off. Blood leaks into his mouth.

The scene changes. An elvish woman is bathing a very dirty child with a tangled mass of hair. When she runs a washcloth over the child’s face, Angus recognizes him as Taako. He lets his eyes close as the woman gets out a brush and begins to work.

The scene changes again. Angus sees Taako, again, but the setting is familiar. The two of them are in the dining hall. Taako casts Mage Hand. Angus watches himself hold out his wand and do the same.

“I understand,” he tells the Voidfish. “Let me go.”

Angus opens his eyes to find Johann standing over him. He sits upright on the floor and spits water out of his mouth.

“What the hell.” Johann looks flabbergasted. “I’ve never -- what the everliving _fuck_.”

“Sir, I am so, so sorry,” says Angus, and Mage Hands him into the side of the tank. He slams against the glass with a resounding _thump_ and lands on the ground. Angus silently, preemptively apologizes for a headache the size of the moon.

He doesn’t waste time. He sprints to his dormitory. Passersby stop and gawk as he races across the halls, dripping, although very soon, he thinks grimly, it won’t matter.

Once in his room, Angus grabs a pen and a notebook off his nightstand and writes a few lines. He reads over his previous ideas, his rough drafts. _Taako introduces himself to Angus as Justin Kessler. Taako, alias Kessler._ Unimportant things.

He understands what the Voidfish wants, although he’s not sure how to undertake such a monumental task.

Angus walks into his bathroom, where the tub is filled to the brim. He reaches down with and drops in the slip of paper. It reads, _Angus McDonald was pulled into the Voidfish tank and knocked Johann unconscious before running through the halls covered in water._

A single, tiny tendril reaches for the paper. Then there is a flash of light and colour as the baby Voidfish swallows it whole.

It’s such a terrible, ungodly responsibility; the worst kind of absolute power. He’s eleven years old, a detective for a secret society, and a surrogate parent for an eldritch abomination.

For weeks he’d dreamed of the Voidfish. He saw pieces of the past, displays of love and nurturing plucked from other people’s lives. One night he dreamed of a white egg, perfect as a pearl, that split open to reveal a jellyfish. When he awoke he found that he had sleepwalked to the edge of the tank. The Voidfish had placed its child, still coated in eggshell, into Angus’s arms.

 _Why me_ , he had asked, desperately. _I’m so young. Why not the director?_

Angus thinks of Taako. How much he trusts and admires him. It’s so difficult to fathom being that person to somebody else.

Still. Taako has faith in him. He has friends, people he loves and trusts. And the Voidfish, knowing every moment of love in living memory, had chosen him. That has to be worth something.

The baby Voidfish sings. A single, tiny note.

“Your first word,” says Angus, out loud. He realizes he’s been crying and wipes his eyes. “It’s an important occasion, in human circles. I think it was an E flat. Maybe a B? I might be tone deaf.”

The Voidfish repeats its note.

Angus giggles. He can’t help himself. “O-oh,” he sings, trying to match. “Oh-oh-ooh.” A nursery rhyme for an omniscient fish.

It’s such a small, stupid thing, but Angus can’t stop laughing. He thinks, I’m going to tell all this to Taako, one day. It’s a good thought. He still has questions, he knows there’s more wells to uncap. He’ll figure it out, somehow. He’ll right the wrongs. He’ll look inside himself with eyes wide open and face his truth.

 

The next morning, Angus observes the baby Voidfish and finds that all the lights released with his escapade have gone dark. There’s still a flash of colour, though. It’s so faint Angus can barely make it out, but when he looks closely he can see it, just below the skin, a brilliant ruby red. It pulsates in odd intervals, but never fades. It’s so small, but it must be important. A little detail, playing over and over, in the peripherals somebody’s mind.


End file.
